MARY

She, in her own flesh,

Enfolded "the holy thing"

Awaiting its birth.

Motherly, she swathed

The Child, lovely to God,

In the warm swaddling bands.

More treasured that gold

She wrapped in her mind

Words, prophecies, actions.

Though she was not among those,

Brother and sister and mother,

Embracing Him in their circuit,

His time come

She stood beside the cross,

The sword entering her soul.

She saw the dank tomb

Enclosing in harsh rock

The linen  swaddled body.

Proof of His glorified life

Soon she forever enshrines

The Holy Spirit of God.